Month: March 2007

  • Greenwald Rips the Chris Matthews Gang.

    I’m a fan of Glenn Greenwald, whose blog is now over at Salon.com. Although perhaps not terse and punchy enough for most attention spans, the guy has a sharp, discerning mind.

    And boy is he upset today. The clip he includes of Chris Matthews, a relentless TV presence capable of reducing any topic to the ying and yang of Democrats vs. Republicans — (after all, adversarial confrontations drive cable talk and ratings) — is at first glance utterly routine. It is the same kind of clubby chatter we’ve all watched a thousand times. Which is why Greenwald’s dissection of it is so spot on.

    One of my beefs with the mindset of “objective” reporting is that I’m so often left wondering if anything really matters to those who practice it, and where fundamental truth rates in the criteria of a good story. Is everything really reduced to someone’s horse race? Liberals vs. conservatives? NBC vs. ABC? New York Times vs. Washington Post?

  • Paul Douglas. The exception that proves the rule.

    Commenter Dave disagrees with my view of KSTP’s global warming reporting. He notes that …

    “WCCO has had the exact opposite stance on global warming. They have jumped in and rarely show the other opinion. I’ve never seen you mention that. WCCO also has Paul Douglas, the man who proudly announced he purchased a Hybrid car a few months ago. Problem is that Paul had been driving a VW Tourag (horrible on gas) and owns a small mansion on Bearpath. Paul seems to believe the sky is falling, just not around his house.”

    On one point Dave is right. I should have mentioned Douglas in my previous screed. If only to compliment him. While virtually all of his Twin Cities meteorological colleagues either mince around the topic — the usual deflective chatter is on the order of, “Oh, that’s just all politics …” — or they dismiss it to avoid catching flak from upper management.

    To his enormous credit, Douglas has been explicit in his concurrence with the best available science. (For better or for worse, TV weather people are the most recognizable “science types” a lot of people ever see.)

    Let me put a point on this. If you are a TV weatherman/lady it takes no courage at all to avoid the topic of global warming, or to dismiss it. Quite the contrary. All you are doing is avoiding conflict, which if you are in the business of delivering straight information, comes with the territory. Oh, you might occasionally hear from a critic if you’re flagrant about dismissing global warming, but the public reaction is NOTHING like what you get if take Douglas’s far more professionally responsible stance and say, out loud and often, “This real, right now.”

    Then watch the wingnuts light up the e-mail and phone lines.

  • Jazz, Punk, 60s, and Sci-Fi

    MUSIC
    Jazz Fusion Virtuosos

    VitalInformation.jpgThere is something to be said for the casual air with which a seasoned group of already-accomplished musicians can address their art. Without the need for commercial success (which they have already attained), they can simply play out of love for the art. Seldom is this so apparent as with Steve Smith and Vital Information. Now in their 24th year, the group has become a jazz-fusion giant — albeit an underrated one.

    The group’s founder and drummer, Steve Smith, has played with such greats as Ahmad Jamal, Zakir Hussain, Steps Ahead, Andrea Bocelli, Savage Garden, and even Journey. Yes, this is true — that’s probably why you’ve heard his name — but don’t let that dissuade you. He won Modern Drummer Magazine’s #1 All Around Drummer award five years in a row and was voted one of the Top 25 Drummers of All Time in a recent Modern Drummer readers’ poll.

    And the incredible line-up doesn’t stop there. Accompanying Steve Smith are guitarist Frank Gambale (Chick Corea Elektric Band), keyboardist Tom Coster (Santana), and bassist Baron Browne (Jean-Luc Ponty/Billy Cobham). These virtuosos transcend bands like Weather Report with their wide array of rhythms and styles and their Indian and European influences. If you like fusion or electric jazz, this show is a must see.

    7 p.m. and 9 p.m. today and tomorrow, Dakota Jazz Club and Restaurant, 1010 Nicollet, Minneapolis, 612-332-1010, $30 and $20.

    Listen to Steve Smith and Vital Information

    MUSIC
    Melody-Tinged Hardcore

    Looking for something a little harder? A couple decades ago, some of us were out there doing stage dives and slam dancing to the best of 80’s punk rock, and while the trend died down a bit after a few backs breaking on bottles, it is alive and well today. Want to give it another try? Two hardcore punk bands — It Dies Today (actually I.T. — information technology — Dies Today) from Buffalo, NY, and Canada’s own Comeback Kid — are headlining at Station 4 tonight. While neither of these bands is actually doing anything groundbreaking, per se, they certainly execute their genre flawlessly. Besides, you have to give It Dies Today kudos for their epic CD titles based on Dante’s Divine Comedy and Homer’s Odyssey.

    5 p.m., Station 4, 201 East 4th Street, Saint Paul, 651-298-0173, $12-$14.

    Listen to It Dies Today
    Listen to Comeback Kid

    THEATER
    Choose Your Own Adventure in Mating

    adventures.gifTonight may be your last chance to experience the long-acclaimed Adventures In Mating, with Joseph Scrimshaw, Craig Johnson, and Alayne Hopkins. (OK. Let’s be honest here. Chances are there’ll be yet another run sometime in the near future, but today is the final show for a while at least.) Tired of the typical passive theater offering? This interactive romantic comedy might be just what you need. Play the hand of fate on Miranda and Jeremy’s first date. Their narrative contains about 60 different junctures at which you, the audience, determine the next course of action. Will they have red white or white wine? Will she slap him or kiss him? You decide.

    8 p.m. (7 p.m. doors), Bryant-Lake Bowl Cabaret Theater, 810 West Lake Street, Minneapolis, 612-825-8949, $12/$10 with a Fringe button or for groups 10 or more.

    READINGS
    Music in the Summer of Love

    Boyd.jpgMuddy Waters, Coleman Hawkins, Stan Getz, Bob Dylan, Eric Clapton, Pink Floyd, Nick Drake, REM, 10,000 Maniacs, Billy Bragg, Cubanismo, Taj Mahal — these are only a few of the big names that producer Joe Boyd worked with throughout his stellar career. Tonight only, you can hear him read from his autobiography, White Bicycles: Making Music in the 1960s. According to Michael Faber of The Guardian, White Bicycles “captures evanescent history with remarkable clarity (and) has enough of a grasp of larger issues — historical, philosophical, psychological — to be of interest to readers unfamiliar with the records Boyd produced.”

    7:30 p.m., The Cedar Cultural Center, 416 Cedar Ave. South, Minneapolis, 612-338-2674, $10.

    READINGS
    A Fantastical Twist

    Not big on autobiographies? Head for the other extreme, and take fiction into the realm of fantasy with local science-fiction writers Hillary Moon Murphy and Jaye Lawrence. As part of Speculations Readings Series, Eric Heideman will be hosting a reading with the two nationally acclaimed authors. Murphy has had stories published in Realms of Fantasy, Tales of the Unanticipated, and New Voices of Science Fiction. She is a member of the writing group Pengames and coordinator of the Twin Cities Speculative Fiction Writers Network, the largest and most active SF writer meet-up in the world. Lawrence’s fiction has appeared in Fantasy & Science Fiction, Minnesota Monthly, and Great River Review. Her story “Kissing Frogs” was a shortlist selection for the 2004 James Tiptree Jr. Award. More recently, she was named as a runner-up for the 2006 Tamarack Award for her story “Aim.”

    6:30 p.m., DreamHaven Books, 912 W Lake St, Minneapolis, 612-823-6161.

    ART
    Stories of Migration

    This is your last week to see Unfolding Time: Stories of Migration, a joint exhibit of work by artists Beth Grossman and Alexandra Rozenman. Unfolding Time capture the experiences of immigrants from Russia over a hundred years. While at first, Grossman’s work seems to be nothing more than painted images and text on everyday objects, a full exploration of these images reveals a deeper re-contextualization of stories and re-interpretation of history. Rozenman’s work, while still narrative in form, is far lighter, with a folksy child-like quality. Her brightly colored, fairytale style is reminiscent of Marc Chagall.

    And if you like Beth Grossman’s work you can pop on over to the Smith Gallery of Jewish Arts and Culture at The Minneapolis Institute of Arts later this week to see her other exhibit, Our Mother Mary Found — which runs through April. Our Mother Mary Found re-contextualizes the story of Mary by conveying a more pragmatic reality of a woman whose daily labor as a mother and a faithful Jew gave birth to a prophet and nurtured a revolutionary.

    7:30 a.m. to 8:30 p.m., Tychman Shapiro Gallery, Sabes Jewish Community Center, Jay & Rose Phillips Building, 4330 South Cedar Lake Road, Minneapolis, 952-381-3400.

  • Joe Boyd

    Hallelujah; it’s Monday and there’s actually something of interest going on, I mean, aside from the 70-degree weather. Straight outta our March So Little Time section (I wrote this little ditty–it was a while back now–and don’t want to reinvent the wheel): Joe Boyd had his fingers in all sorts of music-history pies. While still in his early twenties and freshly graduated from Harvard, he served as Muddy Waters’ tour manager. Then, when Dylan went electric at the Newport Folk Festival in 1963, it was a young Boyd who performed the fateful (and, some would claim, sacrilegious) task of plugging in the guitar. He later went on to produce records for, among others, Nick Drake, Eric Clapton, Pink Floyd, REM, 10,000 Maniacs, and Billy Bragg. He even produced soundtracks for films–most notably, for A Clockwork Orange. But it was the 1960s folk scene that left the deepest impression on Boyd’s character. In his recently released autobiography, White Bicycles: Making Music in the 1960s, Boyd not only captures his own experiences, but also paints portraits of many of the other key players of the era and ponders the consequences of white folks’ appropriation of black people’s music. 416 Cedar Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-338-2674; www.thecedar.org

  • I've Stayed In Worse Places

    bathmat.jpg

    I can tell you from unfortunate personal experience the sort of thing you can expect if you allow yourself to fall under the spell of a poison toad. It’s not good, that’s for damn sure.

    You’d think, I suppose, that any reasonably intelligent person would know enough to steer clear of a poison toad that showed up on his doorstep at midnight, particularly when said toad was wearing an ill-fitting top hat, speaking perfect English, and toting what it claimed was a magic lantern.

    I’ll admit, though, that I’d had a few belts and was feeling no pain. And the odd thing was that when I opened the door and saw this creature on my front porch I never for a minute doubted my eyes. And I knew for damn sure that a toad wearing a top hat was likely to have something to say. This fellow certainly didn’t disappoint on that count.

    Oh, Lord, he had plenty to say, and I fell for it hook, line, and sinker. He was a real smooth operator, a first-rate song-and-dance man. He’d also clearly had his eye on me or done some background research, because he seemed to understand that I was lonesome and dealing with a good deal of personal darkness.

    The toad offered to trade me his magic lantern for a head of lettuce and a saucer of Scotch. This seemed at the time like a reasonable bargain, but there was hitch: I had to kiss the toad before he would hand over the magic lantern.

    A lonely and intoxicated man, you’ll surely understand, will do all manner of foolish things for a magic lantern, and so I gave the toad his saucer of Scotch and the lettuce –we had to compromise a bit; I buy my lettuce by the bag– and then I did as he requested and got down on my hands and knees and kissed him on the mouth.

    At which point the magic lantern, which had been sitting there on my welcome mat, was immediately extinguished and I found myself transformed into a toad and perched on a log at the edge of a dark bog.

    I hopped that night until I was exhausted, and when I finally arrived at the edge of my driveway I could see that what I assumed was the poison toad, looking like a much happier and healthier version of myself (he was shirtless, for one thing, and in better physical shape than I’d ever been), was hosting a raging party in my house.

  • Voltage: Fashion Amplified

    Dance Band, outfitted by Michele Henry; designs by Annie Larson and Labrador.

    The Mood Swings, outfitted by Pomije; designs by Peloria and Kjurek Couture.

    Black Blondie, outfitted by Elizabeth Chesney & Mackenzie Labine; designs by George Moskal and Ra’mon-Lawrence.

  • Stella Ebner & Larry Hofmann

    GrovelandGallery.com; 25 Groveland Terrace, Minneapolis; 612-377-7800

    Stella Ebner’s One Day, in the main gallery of this Kenwood institution, features lovely, quiet woodcuts with domestic themes—a pile of bills, a tumble of opened envelopes, a sink full of dishes. These simple prints echo the matter of everyday existence, the true flowers and landscape of our lived urban hours. And in The Annex, behind the main building, one finds a counterpoint to these human artifacts: Larry Hofmann’s smooth, dreamy, and mossy green paintings with transfigured trees and slightly Martian landscapes. He invites you to step out of the paper-and-telephone world and imagine that you have different eyes.

  • Dérive

    Always up for an experiment, Flaneur Productions distributed a top-secret passage from an obscure work of literature to a group of six local performers earlier this year. Each was instructed to use the text (still secret as of press time), along with the show’s creepy venue (a former coffin factory), as inspiration for the beginning of a twenty-minute “situationist stroll,” or dérive in the French—the result being that the collected works will share a point of origin but drift from there on. The iconoclastic imaginations tapped for this showcase include a veritable who’s-who of the local experimental-theater scene: John Bueche of the Bedlam Theatre company, Charles Campbell from the site-specific performance troupe Skewed Visions, and Kristin Van Loon and Arwen Wilder of the renegade dance duo HIJACK. 1707 Jefferson St. N.E., Minneapolis; 612-203-9560; www.flaneurproductions.com

  • Marathon Man

    Beyond a long window that offered a panoramic view of the Minneapolis skyline, the end-of-the-workday exodus was already under way. Traffic was snarled on the streets stretching all the way downtown. Dave St. Peter had his back to the window, and he was looking and sounding like a man whose day was just getting started. St. Peter has a big, open, Midwestern face—it could be the face of a small-town high-school principal or insurance salesman—and he somehow manages to come across as both relaxed and impatient. He also looks like a guy who needs to duck into the men’s room several times a day to address his permanent five o’clock shadow. 

    “My dad was an accountant,” St. Peter said. “And I love my dad to death, but I knew I didn’t want to be an accountant. I wanted to do something I was really passionate about. I grew up a huge sports fan, and I was just hoping I could end up doing something along those lines. I used to think that maybe I’d be a sports information director somewhere. I can definitely tell you that there was never a day, never a moment, when I could have imagined I’d be sitting where I’m sitting right now.”

    Where St. Peter is “sitting right now,” and where he has been sitting since November 2002, is in the president’s chair at the Minnesota Twins’ Metrodome offices. On a late afternoon in early March, he was up to his elbows in preparations for his eighteenth season with the ball club, at the end of his rope with the ongoing wrangling over land acquisition for the team’s new ballpark, and still managing to do a pretty convincing impersonation of a man who loves his job.

    St. Peter’s story is the sort of improbable Horatio Alger yarn that seemed to have vanished from American business in the age of hotshot MBA programs and the get-rich-quick booms fueled by Wall Street and the Internet.

    St. Peter graduated from the University of North Dakota in Grand Forks in 1989 and set out for the Twin Cities with a marketing degree in hand and the modest goal of simply getting his foot in the door somewhere. He had been raised in Bismarck, North Dakota, the middle kid in a family of five children (he has two brothers and two sisters), and, like a lot of people just out of college, he was ambitious but a bit vague regarding where exactly his dreams might lead him.

    Despite his long tenure with the team, St. Peter is still only forty years old, which makes him one of the youngest team presidents in Major League Baseball. Other than a very brief stint with the North Stars in 1989, he’s never worked anywhere else, and, over the course of his Twins career, he has, by his own account, spent time in “every corner of the organization.”

    “Coming to the Twin Cities was in itself a huge move for me,” St. Peter said. “You’re talking about a kid who used to think that going to Fargo was a big deal. I didn’t know anybody and didn’t have the slightest idea what to expect when I came here, but I always felt that if I could get an opportunity nobody would ever outwork me and I’d get noticed.”

    He got his break with the Twins when he was offered an unpaid internship in the marketing department in 1990. Mark Weber, at the time the team’s director of promotions, was the guy who originally brought St. Peter into the fold, and he remembers the qualities that distinguished the new kid right out of the blocks.

    “Teams didn’t do as much in terms of promotion back then,” Weber said. “We had a very small staff; there were three of us, including Dave, so he got thrown right into the fray. He was responsible for a lot of the communication with players in terms of pre-game activities and working with some of our corporate partners. After a week you could already see that he had what it took to succeed in what is a very challenging environment. He had a great work ethic and tremendous passion.”

    Talk to anybody involved in baseball at the Major League level and he’ll invariably mention the 162-game season and the ridiculous demands it makes on everybody in an organization. “The number of hours you have to work in that business is beyond comprehension,” Weber said. “During the season you’re often at the ballpark from 8:30 in the morning until 10:30 or 11:00 at night. It can be an incredible challenge and it’s definitely not for everybody. But right away you sensed that Dave could both survive and thrive in that atmosphere. I’m not going to claim that I knew he was one day going to be president of the team, but I definitely felt that wherever he ended up he was going to be successful.”

     

    Halfway through St. Peter’s internship the club offered him a full-time position. There was a bit of a hitch, though—the job wouldn’t be within the front office, or even within the confines of the Metrodome. What the Twins were offering was a decidedly unglamorous managerial position in the team’s Twins Pro Shop retail outlet in Richfield.

    “I’ll admit that I had to sort of pause and ask myself if I really wanted to work in retail,” St. Peter said. “But I also recognized that this was an opportunity to actually get paid, receive benefits, and be a part of the Twins organization, so ultimately it became a pretty easy decision.”

    St. Peter ran the Pro Shop from the summer of 1990 through February of 1992. By all accounts sales went through the roof. St. Peter acknowledged as much, but deflected credit. “That had a whole lot less to do with me,” he said, “and a lot more to do with Kirby Puckett, Jack Morris, and the rest of those guys who won the World Series in ’91.” He admitted, though, that his stretch in Richfield was a wholly positive experience. “In terms of managing staff, developing customer-service skills, and really learning to understand our fans at a very grassroots level, it was invaluable,” St. Peter said. “Those Pro Shops are a ticket outlet, but they’re also a place where the average guy stops in to buy a cap or to complain about everything from ticket prices to the lousy pitching performance the night before. That experience really helped me to learn how important this team is to the community.”

    After St. Peter’s success in Richfield, the team offered him a newly created position—communications manager—in the front office. In many ways, the move represented a recognition on the part of the organization that the game was changing dramatically. “This was really the first time the Twins had a media-relations person devoted exclusively to the business side of the operation,” St. Peter said. “This predates the stadium issue, but if you really look at it, we were ahead of the curve. I took that job in 1992, and since then there has probably been as much or more stuff written about the business of baseball as there has been about the game itself.”

    St. Peter’s move into the Twins’ front office, and his subsequent rise through the ranks, came during the most challenging period in the team’s history, both from a franchise standpoint and in terms of systemic turmoil throughout the business. The growing economic disparity between the big-market and small-market teams led to the impasse between the players union and management that resulted in the 1994 strike and the first-ever cancellation of a World Series. The increasingly grim economic realities hit the local franchise particularly hard; attendance declined as the team endured eight straight losing seasons from 1993-2000. And, as flashy new ballparks (and revenue juggernauts) opened all around the Major Leagues, the Twins found themselves embroiled in an agonizingly protracted and frequently contentious battle for a new stadium of their own.

    The low point for the Twins came in the autumn of 2001, when Commissioner Bud Selig announced that the team was being targeted for contraction—this following the club’s first winning season in almost a decade.

    But the next year the team pushed the contraction threat to the back burner in spectacular fashion, by winning the Central Division before losing the American League Championship Series to the big-market Anaheim Angels. St. Peter assumed the presidency following that season, and the team has been on a roll ever since, winning three of the last four Central titles and stockpiling talent up and down the organization.

    “There’s no doubt that we went through a very dark period as a franchise,” St. Peter said. “We sort of hit bottom with the contraction thing, but we had a stretch in the late ’90s nineties where I can tell you pretty candidly that there was a lot of apathy in terms of our product. We’d had a lot of challenges, with [general manager] Andy MacPhail moving to the Cubs, the early retirements of Hrbek and Puckett, and the failed stadium efforts. It was pretty scary to think that we opened the decade winning a World Series and ended it with a lot of people maybe wondering whether they really cared about the Twins anymore.”

    With Jerry Bell giving up day-to-day management of the franchise to focus on getting a new stadium built, the challenge for St. Peter and the Twins’ front office was to stabilize the business operations and get the focus back on the players and the game itself, and away from the divisive politics surrounding the stadium push and the sport’s ever-exploding economics. St. Peter gives the 2001 team a lot of credit for the organization’s ultimate turnaround. “There are very few guys left from that team,” he said, “but that year we unveiled our ‘Get to Know ’Em’ ad campaign and then got off to a 14-3 start. The combination of those things went a long way toward restoring some credibility for us with our fans. That team really connected with people, and that season created an incredible amount of momentum as it relates to marketing our team and building our identity around the players. That was a very conscious decision on our part, and we’ve been able to build on that momentum year after year. Of course that only works when you’re as blessed as we have been to have guys who are not only good players, but who are also accessible, who are tremendous spokespeople for the franchise, and who have for the most part been—knock wood—wonderful role models.”

    St. Peter also has praise for the often-reviled owner of his ball club. “I’m sure his patience was tested plenty of times,” St. Peter said. “But Carl Pohlad stayed the course through all the chaos. He’s been incredibly loyal to his staff, and that’s created real stability within the organization. If you really look at it, in the last twenty-plus years we’ve had two team presidents, two general managers, and two field managers. We have the longest tenured scouting director and farm director in all of baseball. What that all boils down to is continuity; we have a lot of people who’ve been in this organization and in their positions for a very long time. We know each other, and over time we’ve developed an agreed-upon philosophy about the way we go about things both on and off the field.”

     

    Most baseball fans have a pretty good idea regarding the basic responsibilities of the manager and general manager of a Major League team. The president, however, occupies a hazier sort of position in the public’s mind. So what exactly does the president of the Minnesota Twins do?

    The answer, if you’re Dave St. Peter, is a little bit—and sometimes a lot—of everything.

    “I’m sure it varies from team to team,” St. Peter said. “But at the end of the day, I think the core responsibilities are the same. You’re responsible for managing the baseball team as a business and as a public trust. And in the Twins organization, the business and baseball operations have always been one and the same, so I work very closely and collaboratively with [general manager] Terry Ryan. We deliver Terry a budget and try to give him the dollars and resources that are going to allow him to put a competitive team on the field. It’s Terry’s job to work within that budget and manage the personnel of our baseball team. But if we’re going to be successful we have to be able to work well together and bounce stuff off each other. Very rarely is Terry recommending something to ownership that I’m not on board with, and vice versa. I think we do a pretty good job of working together in lockstep.”

    That, it turns out, is a seriously shorthand version of St. Peter’s job description. His co-workers will tell you that the team president is a guy who likes to be involved in every area of the business, from ticket sales and corporate sponsorships to advertising and promotions.

    Patrick Klinger, the Twins’ vice president of marketing, was hired by St. Peter in 1999, and like his boss (and pretty much everybody else in the organization) his first gig with the team was as an intern. “Dave knows more about every element of this operation than anybody around,” Klinger said. “I don’t think there’s a job in the organization he couldn’t do. For a guy in his position he’s as committed as anyone I’ve seen. Even as his responsibilities have grown, and with all the ballpark stuff, he’s still very involved in the day-to-day operations and wants to know what’s going on in every department. He also has a lot of good ideas, and doesn’t mind getting down in the trenches and getting dirt under his fingers. There isn’t anybody in the office who works longer hours. Dave’s good at preaching balance, but he’s not very good at practicing what he preaches.”

    St. Peter admitted as much, but insisted that he’s working on it. He and his wife Joanie have three pre-teen boys, and this year, he said, he intends to help coach Little League. “I may end up missing a game here or there,” he said. “I’m trying to find ways to create more balance and be there as a dad, but the reality is that I’m going to be here most of the time. It’s just the nature of the job. From the very beginning it was drilled into me that eighty-one nights a year what’s happening down here is the most important thing going on in the state of Minnesota.”

    Given that grind, you’d think that a guy in St. Peter’s position would have frequent occasion to look at the folks in the Vikings’ front office with a little bit of envy, but he just laughed at that notion. “I’ve never understood how you could play just one game a week,” he said. “I literally can’t imagine working for an NFL team. It would be like having ten weeks of vacation. I say this all the time: The NFL is a country club. The baseball season’s a marathon, and that’s a badge of honor for those of us who thrive on this atmosphere. It’s all I’ve ever known, and what we’re going through right now is the best time of the year. There’s nothing better than spring training and the anticipation of opening day.”